


I don't want to be your enemy sleeping in the same bed

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha Timeline, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, False Identity, Felt Mansion, Gangsters, Guns, Humanstuck, M/M, Rescue Missions, Revolution, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:59:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Volunteering to infiltrate Felt Mansion to rescue some guy you've never met and to kickstart a revolution while you're at it: not one of your better ideas.





	1. I don't want to hide in darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! this is mika and micah. we're writing this fic as a collab. hope you enjoy!

You knock on the door to your brother’s room loudly and insistently. There is no response. You knock again, louder, and continue to knock until you start to hear signs of life inside.

Your brother finally opens the door a crack and squints at you with an expression of sleepy befuddlement. “Dirk… it’s four in the morning.”

“Justice never sleeps,” you reply while pushing into his bedroom halfway, and turn to face him. He stares at you, exasperated.

“I’ve found our way in.” Your hands flutter over his laptop keyboard, nudging a key to turn it on from its sleeping state. “Basically, there’s a job opening in the big mansion, and you know who fits all the criteria? Me.”  

He rubs a hand over his face. “Okay. Sounds fake. Show me the listing.”

You sit at his desk and pull up the Craigslist advertisement. _Needed: bodyguard for son._

Dave sighs, looming over your shoulder. “Dirk… that’s not very convincing.”

“Okay, but look at this,” you say, and highlight the page. In lettering previously invisible, it says, _Must have strong stomach and be good with young people. If interested, call 1-800-ENGLISH or send an email with your credentials to undyingbusiness@gmail.com._

“Are you sure about this, Dirk?” he asks, putting a hand on your shoulder and leaning in to inspect the screen. You look up at him, his face illuminated by the white screen. He looks tired. Not because of the time, but because of his age. He’s not old, but he clearly has the weight of the world on his shoulders with being a big shot director, and the head of a revolution.  

“I have Roxy tracking the IP address right now.” Your eyes fall back onto the eye-straining  screen, and you shut the laptop to succumb the room into darkness. “You can go back to bed now, we’ll talk about this in the morning when your brain has had time to process and think logically about this option—”

“I don’t need to think. You’re too young, Dirk. What if something happens?”

“I’m perfect,” you insist. “They know that you have a younger brother that nobody has ever seen because you’re protective of him. They’d never suspect it’s me because they think you’d never use me like that. And I can handle myself. You made sure of that.”

Karkat rolls over in his spot in bed, completely dead to the serious conversation you and Dave are having. You both fall silent to be sure he doesn’t wake, but Karkat just begins to snore.

Dave turns back to you and rubs a hand over his face. “They’re right to think that, because it’s true. I won’t risk you. You know the truth. Awful things happen in Felt Mansion.”  

“But nobody knows the truth about English’s kid,” you say, curling your hand into a fist. “How much does he really know? What’s he like? Say he’s as sheltered from the truth as we’ve speculated. This could be our chance to turn him to our side, and he’s more likely to trust someone his age than whatever random person you pick instead of me.”

“Yeah, Dirk, but I could always get an agent to do the same thing, without risking your life. You don’t need to do this.” He sits down on the edge of his bed, grabbing the blanket and throwing himself under it. “We aren’t talking about this further. Go back to bed, and send Roxy to bed too before her mom hightails over here and gives me a talking to.”

“Dave — this isn’t just about helping Jade. It’s to help me. I have no identity, let me do something to give myself a little purpose,” you plead, standing up from your chair, but by the looks of it, your brother isn’t going to respond further, so you leave in a frustrated huff.

You could always send an email without his permission, though the chances are pretty high that he’d ship you off to a different country in retribution, all in the name of keeping you safe, of course. As childish as it sounds, all you really want is to find a way to help with the rebellion against Crocker Corp and the Felt. You’re certain you can do this. Violence doesn’t frighten you, and as far as the world not in the know on the Batterwitch and English’s rise to power are concerned, you don’t exist.

You’ll have to find a better way to persuade Dave.

* * *

“Dave Strider!” You hear the front door of the high-rise apartment swing open. “You better get your BUTT out here, mister. I just got a very upsetting email!” Slowly, you peek your head out from your bedroom to watch as Dave sluggishly makes his way to the intruding voice.

“What is it with you people waking me up, I just want a full 23 hours of sleep, is that so hard to ask?” He pushes his sunglasses up onto the top of his head. The fact he even put them on is strange. It’s only Jade after all.

“Dirk emailed me—”   

“Dirk did what?” He turns his head toward your bedroom, suspicious.

“It only seemed right that she know we have a lead on her son,” you say. Jade is the best. You have always liked Jade.

“Yeah, I’m sure that was your only motivation,” Dave grumbles, turning back to her. “I’m considering the angle, Harley, but you understand that it’s not safe. I want to be careful with how we approach this.”

Jade tosses her long, greying hair out of her face. “And wait for someone else to snag the opportunity? I agree with Dirk. This is an opportunity that needs to be pounced on. And if you dig deep enough, all of the agents you trust the most can be proved to have collaborated with you in the past.”

Dave starts to speak, but cuts himself off. He can’t say he doesn’t want to risk you. Kinda tactless, since Jade’s son got ‘napped as a kid.

“Dave,” you start, stepping out from your bedroom and closing the door behind you. “I can handle myself. I know how to fight, and I’m quick on my feet. Not only that, I’m a great actor.”

“Great isn’t good enough, Dirk. You’ll need to be perfect. We’ll have to get you gear, change your appearance.”

“And I’ll do it, trust me. I’ll cut off all my hair if I have to.” That rewards an eyebrow raise from your brother, and you stand taller with the surge of confidence. “Just trust me on this, okay?”

Dave looks away from you, back to Jade, but he’s not turning his back on you. “You’re the one who taught him hand-to-hand. You know his skills. Do you think he can handle it?”

Jade makes a show of eyeing you up and down. You wish you were wearing something cooler than your Batman pajamas. “He can handle it,” she concludes. “Besides, we’ll be there the whole way. Get him and Rose’s girl to collaborate and we can have cameras and microphones recording everything that happens there. He won’t really be on his own.”

Dave heaves a sigh so deep that it could probably topple a mountain range. “Fine,” he says, grudgingly.

You let out a sigh of relief.

“Go get a towel. I’m cutting your hair myself.”

That sigh gets caught in your throat. Fuck. Your hair. Why did you say you would cut your hair off? It sounded great in the moment, very passionate and persuasive. Now you retreat to the bathroom to stare wistfully into the mirror and compose a eulogy for your perfect ‘do. Dave and Jade talk for a little while longer, voices carefully kept too low for you to overhear. But. If this means you’ll finally be useful, then anything is worth it.

* * *

Roxy spends the first five minutes of what is supposed to be your time to pick out gadgets running her fingers sorrowfully through your shorn hair. Dave cut every inch of blond off, leaving only the brown roots. Good thing you were overdue to touch them up, otherwise you wouldn’t have any hair left at all.

“I’m not one of your cats, Roxy. You can’t just keep petting me,” you say, while ducking your head away from her hands. She pouts, curling her own hair around her fingers now.   

“It’s just strange! You look so different. Are those contacts?” She points at your eyes, her long pink nails getting so close to your face that you flinch and blink reflexively.

You nod. Putting contacts in was a pain in the ass. You nearly cried. Originally, the plan was to go blue to totally differentiate yourself from the genes of your beloved family, but with your natural amber hue, blue just didn’t look right. So, brown eyes it is.  

“They’re spy shit too.” You take out your phone to look at yourself in the camera, despite the fact you already spent the last thirty minutes evaluating your look. “I can see your messages, and record everything I see using them.”

“Can I spy on you during the day?” Roxy asks. “See through your eyes or whatever?”

“That’s the idea,” you agree. “That way we’ve got multiple eyes monitoring whatever’s going down at all times.”

Roxy seems to be warming to this idea. “Ooh,” she says. “And since the cameras are in your eyes, I’ll totally get to catch you looking at all the cute boys’ asses. Alright, I’m down with this plan.”

You sigh. “This will also help us flesh out our database of faces and names of everyone in the organization. But, yes, if someone there is miraculously attractive and not instantly unappealing due to their involvement with horrible things, you’ll get to see them, same as I will.”

Roxy snickers to herself but moves on. “And you got the job already?”

You remember the really creepy email you’d gotten an hour ago, detailing the terms of your job as the bodyguard to the heir of the Felt, Jake English. Originally Harley, before English fucked up a perfectly happy family. “Sure did. Why, were you doubting me?”

“Of course not, it’s just... You’ve never worked a day in your life, Dirk!” She turns to the shelves of gadgets layering the walls, from smoke pellets to guns. You let out a huff from your nose, and look over them as well.

“Isn’t it a little stupid that I can’t bring the weapon I’m trained in? I’ve done sword fighting my entire life—”

Roxy cuts you off with an obnoxious snort. “Yeah, they’ll totally trust you strutting around with a giant katana.”

“I’d trust me.”

She looks at you from the corner of her eye, like she wants to say something that’ll make you flip her off, before grabbing a pair of stylish earing studs. “Your ears are pierced, right?”

“I don’t see how jewelry is going to help me.” You furrow your eyebrows, taking the small earrings from her. They look like natural silver, nothing too fancy, but not something you’d find from a tacky jewelry store like Claire’s.

“They’re recording devices, Dirk, God. You’re so old, Get with the times!” She rolls her eyes, looking for something else to give you.

“Oh,” you say. This is an obvious conclusion that you missed completely. “That makes sense. If the contacts can’t pick up sound, I mean. Which they can’t.”

“Yeah, okay, Einstein,” Roxy says with an exaggerated sigh. “You sure I can’t give you any weapons?”

You shrug. “The email was very specific. They provide the weapons, the transportation, everything.”

She taps her fingernails against a shelf, right next to what you know is one of her favorite guns. “I don’t like that,” she says.

You were also dismayed by this. In all likelihood you’re going to be saddled with some horrific Crocker Corp weaponry and have to act like it’s not an affront to every inch of your soul to touch something made by that company. “It is what it is,” you say. “Bro’s getting me some clothes for the job. Plain suits, mostly. I leave this afternoon.”  

“So soon,” Roxy says quietly, mouth turning down in a frown. “Well. Let’s at least get you hooked into the system, then, if I can’t give you the arsenal you’d need.”

She leads you to the room next door, the computer and monitoring lab that Roxy likes best. She makes you sit and wait while she mutters under her breath and types on the keys for a few minutes before she sits back and gives you a thumbs-up. “Alright, you’re connected. I’ll just go ahead and start checking the encryption.”

“Cool,” you say, distracted by being able to see the screens in your contacts when a message pops up.

TT: Surprise, bitch. Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.

“Oh hell no, Roxy, why’s he talking to me,” you say in horror.

TT: Rude. I can hear everything you’re saying.

‘Hal,’ previously known as Auto-Responder, is an AI you created as a thirteen year old. Miraculously self-aware, he decided he hated you and did his best to make you miserable. He’d gone to live on Roxy’s computer when Dave found out why you were being so moody and texting constantly.

“He’s going to help us out! People need to sleep, you know.” She shakes her head, curly blonde hair bouncing with the movement. You squint at nothing in particular, because the chat-log is literally in your eyes. There’s no shades or screen to scowl at.

“Okay… fine,” you say reluctantly. “So long as he doesn’t cause trouble. How many people do you think are going to be in here, watching the stuff I do?”

Roxy shrugs, leaning on the computer desk. “Just a few, so nothing leaks! Me, your brother, Jade, and a couple trusted people—Karkat too, because he sucks at the coding thing and we have to train him!”

“Gross. I don’t want my brother and his fiance canoodling while I fight crime and kick ass.” You laugh, leaning back in the computer chair.

Truth be told, you like Karkat. He listens, even if people seem to think all he does is talk. Naturally loud, but his words are genuine. Most of the time. He helped you a lot the past few years, but you don’t think he knows that.

“After you’re all packed, I’m just going to give you some rope just in case you need to tie some bad guys up!”

“That sounds legit and not sketchy at all.”

* * *

Saying goodbye is very difficult, you’re not going to lie. Despite all your bravado and determination, when Roxy hugs you for the last time it suddenly strikes you that if things go wrong, this could be the last time you ever see her. Your brother ruffles your very short hair and says, “Be careful, Dirk.” You just nod and promise you will. Karkat hugs you, which is surprising. He isn’t the most tactile person you know. He says he’ll keep Dave from worrying himself to death.

It’s Jade’s goodbye that hits you the hardest. She holds you at arm’s length and looks you dead in the eyes.

“Don’t think I don’t know why you emailed me about all this,” she says. “I know you, Dirk. You’re just like Dave was when he was younger — desperate to prove yourself to be good enough for the world. I know you’re not going to be as careful as you should. You’ve never really been out in the world on your own, either. Don’t be too surprised if things go in directions you weren’t expecting. But don’t you dare die out there.” Her voice is as unyielding as steel. “I don’t value Jake’s life over yours, or yours over his. You come back safe, even if you can’t get my son back to me. Understand?”   

You blink hard a few times. “I understand.”

“Good,” she says, and drags you into a crushing hug. “Now, behave yourself. We’re going to be watching you.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you mutter, not even bothering to pretend to push her away. “Can I at least take these ugly-ass earrings out when I’m in the shower or something?”

“They shouldn’t get wet if you can help it, so yes,” she says dryly. “Just put them back in afterwards and don’t submerge them in water.”

“Alright. Here I go, I guess.” You straighten your back, and begin walking to the designated spot. Refusing to look back at them, you push forward down the sidewalk your suitcase rolling behind you. These contacts are killing you already, your eyes are watering.

After around twenty minutes of walking, you come across the destination depicted in the email. A road that has grassy wheat fields on each side and a rusty old stop sign no longer in use. The sun is low in the sky, sinking below the buildings north of you and colouring the sky an array of pinkish and orange colours. You resist the urge to pull out your phone and waste time on a video game app, because you know Roxy and everyone else back home could be watching you.

A black limo pulls up out of nowhere, and you snap out of your daze.  

“Are you Dirk Jones?” the driver asks before he’s even finished rolling down the window. He’s old, mid seventies with a deep scowl and a square chin.  

“Yeah. English send you?” you ask, stepping closer to the sleek vehicle.

“No, the fuckin’ president did. Congratulations. Get in, kid,” he spits out, unlocking the limo doors. English’s followers all seem to be like this. Snappy and sarcastic. You’re in for a long couple months. Or years? Fuck. Who knows how long this will last.

You dump your bag on the floor of the limo and get in. Doubting you can get any information out of this man, you choose to fall silent. He seems content with this, flooring the accelerator and taking off in a squeal of tires and plume of dust. There are no other cars around, but the high speeds he’s driving at make you nervous nonetheless. You assume your most bored and blank expression so he can’t tell he’s putting you on edge.

He drives for about an hour. You give into temptation and see what your phone looks like. Roxy wiped it and reset it to match your new identity. Apparently Dirk Jones has only three contacts in his phone and likes playing the card game Hearts. Roxy has left an in-progress game going, which you immediately fuck up by not understanding the rules of the game. The rest of your phone is basic apps. You know she’s probably keyed into your phone somehow, in case of an emergency, but you can’t message her through it no matter how much you want to. There’s also a pet simulator app that you’re pretty sure is for little kids and would undoubtedly murder your battery life. Roxy has made you a pet kitten. The cat is orange and her name is _sweetheart <3_. You restrain a sigh and return to staring blankly out the window.

“Were about five minutes out,” the driver says unexpectedly, bringing you back to attention. The sun is creeping down towards the horizon by now. He pulls up to a gate and unrolls the window. You’re pulled up next to a guard house, but nothing happens.

The driver heaves a sigh and leans out as far as he can to knock on the window of the guard house. “DOZE!” he yells. “Wake up!”

There’s a pause, and then the gate slowly begins to creak open.

“Damn asshole always falls asleep,” the driver grumbles to himself as he pulls up the long driveway. You pass a huge golf course on one side and what looks like fancy gardens on the other. You can’t quite tell, as the entire driveway is lined along that side with hedges shaped into skulls. It’s definitely up there for most alarming topiary you’ve ever seen. At least the few colourful flowers peeking through put you at ease.

The house finally comes into view up ahead. It’s very… green. Bizarrely so. Clearly the walls are old stonework, heavy and intimidating-looking, but it’s all painted green. There are an assortment of people waiting on the front step. A few more employee-looking people by the doors, judging by their green suits, and a tall figure standing right at the head of the driveway, dressed much more casually in shorts, waiting for you.

It’s probably just the blinding glare of the setting sun behind him, but when you drag your ass out of the car, you swear Jake English is glowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: undyingbusiness@gmail.com is a real email we created for the fic. feel free to email it.


	2. Wake up in a state of madness

Jake stands on the front steps to his lavish mansion, a sincere grin plastered over his face that squishes his eyes partly shut. He looks good, for a kid who may or may not be evil and hardly ever goes outside. Or, outside the grounds of his land seeing as there’s a giant golf course just two minutes away. Slowly stepping out of the vehicle, you nod to the man shutting the door for you. “Thank you.” 

“Dirk Jones, what a pleasure! Sad as it is to say I’ve been awaiting this meeting since your reply. We don’t get many strangers here.” Jake immediately grabs your hand to shake it, your entire arm moving with his.

“It’s my pleasure, sir,” you say meekly, pulling your hand back. His smile doesn’t falter the slightest. 

“Please, call me Jake. Come, you must meet my father!”  

_ Oh shit, _ you think. You are not totally braced to meet the infamous Lord English. (As stupid as the name is, it’s the only alias you have right now.) Aloud you just say, “Very well,” and fall into step when Jake hops up the rest of the stairs and throws open the front doors. 

The interior is just as alarmingly green as the exterior of the mansion. You’ve seen hallways and buildings done in shades of green before, tastefully. Not to sound like a gay stereotype but this is fucking ugly. 

Your host doesn’t seem to care. Possibly it’s just that he’s never known anything else, or is immune to visual assaults. Jake is still yammering away. 

“I’ve never had a personal bodyguard before,” he tells you. “I’m very excited. What sorts of hijinks do bodyguards get up to? Is it anything like the movies? Not James Bond I suppose but something along the same general line of thinking? I haven’t seen The Bodyguard. Maybe you can guard me while I watch it, haha!” He does actually laugh at this, and looks at you expectantly for an answer. 

“I’m to stay by your side and be sure that you are protected from all dangers,” you say after a moment of reflection. “It seems to me that, while focused on a movie, it would be easier to launch a surprise attack against you, which means that it would be important for me to be nearby while you watch movies.”  

“Oh, these walls are airtight, friend. Wouldn’t worry about someone getting me in here, honestly this job is worthless in my opinion! No offence. I’ve never been hurt no more than a scrape on a knee. Nonetheless, glad you’re here!”

He enters the kitchen area, a room so big you would expect it to be a bedroom at first. The appliances are so new you doubt they’re out on the market yet. Thankfully, they’re mostly a sleek black instead of garish green, or worse, Crocker red. Not even your brother has fridges or microwaves this expensive. In the next room, sitting at a huge table is Lord English angrily reading a newspaper with it crumpled between his fingers. 

“Father, Dirk is here! Look, he’s even dressed nicely for us.” He gestures to your suit.    

Lord English looks up from the paper and fixes you with a glower. You hope that someone is watching through your contacts right now and is appreciating how terrifying this is. He unfolds himself from his chair and looms menacingly. His bulk and corded muscle is both intimidating and nauseating, in the way that overly-built musculature has always seemed to you. He’s also a sickly sort of pale. Jake must realize he’s adopted, at least.

“Aren’t you a little young to be a bodyguard,” Lord English says, in a gravelly, stilted tone. 

_ Nice to meet you, too, _ you think. “I can assure you that my skills are not in question, regardless of my age.” 

“We will see about that.” Lord English prowls across the room to a cabinet. “What’s your poison.” 

“My what?” 

“Your poison. Your drink of choice.” 

You don’t drink. “Well—” you say, stalling for time. 

He cuts you off with a sharp gesture and pours two small glasses of some sort of alcoholic beverage. He mixes something from a small bottle in with them. You hope you’re not being poisoned to test your wariness of strange beverages. 

“Hey, what about me?” Jake protests. 

English snarls in irritation and snatches up another glass. You’re surprised he doesn’t crush them in his grip. He turns back to the two of you and pushes two of the glasses across the cabinet towards you. Jake picks his up. You suppose that English isn’t too likely to poison both of you, unless he’s trying to see if you’re aware of all possible threats, including ones from within his own household. 

“A toast for the newest addition to our lives.” English never stops glaring at you the entire time. “Bottoms up.” 

Jake sips from his glass politely. You lock eyes with Lord English and drink the entire glass in one go. The taste is awful. Luckily for you, you’ve always been basically impervious to intoxication. 

He grumbles under his breath, but doesn’t seem displeased. “Young people… No appreciation for fine quality…” 

“Okie-dokie,” Jake says. “Well, I’m glad you two have met. Dirk, do you want to see the rest of the house now?”

You lick the last bits of alcohol off your lips and put the glass down. “Yeah. Pleasure meeting you, Mr. English.” 

On your way out of the dining room, you hear the whine of his chair as he sits back in his seat and mumbles something under his breath. You can’t quite hear what is said as Jake has started talking again. 

“So, Dirk! Now that you’ll be living with me, I sure hope that any,” he pauses, glancing over to you, “girlfriend you may have won’t be too upset!”  

You bark out a laugh, immediately embarrassed and coughing to try and fix it. “That’s not a problem, I assure you.” It’s been awhile since anyone has brought up the girlfriend card, you almost forgot the type of world you lived in. 

Jake looks lost in thought for a second, before nodding. “Right-o! Anywho, here is my bedroom. You’ll be staying one room over. There’s a door connecting the two so it’s almost like, one big room!”   

You try and peek past Jake English’s broader frame, and a few seconds later he catches the memo and steps further into the room. It looks like… a teenager’s room. Posters of women, tinged blue with a couple action movies mixed in. The most surprising thing in there is a collection of various pistols on his desk, all lined up perfectly. 

“Nice guns,” you say. 

“Thanks!” Jake says. He extends an arm and flexes. “Do you like to wrestle? Maybe that’s not in the bodyguard contract, but I’d love to have someone around to get into scrums with!” 

“I meant the guns on your desk,” you say, trying not to admire Jake’s arms now that they’re pointed out to you. “Hand-to-hand isn’t my preferred style of fighting, but I can make it work.” 

Jake lowers his arm and laughs awkwardly. “Oh, right. Um, yes! We keep a lot of firearms around here. These are just my favorites. All unloaded, of course. I’m no beginner to gun safety! But! If you’d like to get into a round of fisticuffs, just let me know.” He cocks a finger gun at you and makes a clicking noise. 

TG: is this how u flirt w the boys dirk bc ill have u know that its painful to watch  
TT: Hush, you’ll distract him. I want to see how this trainwreck plays out without side commentary.

“Um,” you say, trying to concentrate through the sudden barrage of pink and red. “I will do that.” The text blocking your view seems like poor planning on Roxy's part. 

“Well, that’s your room through there,” Jake says. “Your bags should’ve been brought up, but you can unpack later. I’ll show you the pool for now, maybe we can take a swim?”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I didn’t bring a swimsuit.” 

“Oh, that’s fine, we can just go in our undergarments, they’re practically the same thing, right?” Jake says. He tugs his shirt off over his head, and your eyebrows shoot up. His chest is sculpted like Adonis. He kind of looks like an underwear model, if underwear models were Pacific Islander and potentially really evil. “Or I can lend you something, though I don’t know if my swim trunks will fit you. There’s a sneaky way down to the pool, I’ll show you.” He starts unbuttoning his pants, and you shield your eyes (and Roxy’s) from the scene. 

“I’m actually pretty tired,” you reply quickly, turning away from him and dropping the hand from in front of your eyes. Breathing in, you will the blood away from your face. Looks like he wasn’t kidding when he told you that there wasn’t many visitors. The guy’s sense of boundaries seems a little fucked. 

“Oh!” he says cheerfully, and you hear him zip his fly back up. “We have a theater, why not watch a movie?” 

“Sure,” you say, relieved. “Lead the way.” 

He puts his shirt back on and takes you back out of the bedroom and down a flight of stairs. “What’s your preferred genre?” he asks. “I am a connoisseur of all sorts of filmographic delights. Do you have a preference as to what we’ll be partaking in this evening?” 

Jake… sure does talk weird. “No real preference. I tend to be picky, so just throw something my way and see if it sticks.” 

“Hmmmm,” Jake says, seemingly equally delighted by getting to pick. “Let’s see what I have available, then.”

Before entering the theater room, you glance to a door placed at the very end of the hall. There’s a small sign pinned on saying, ‘Do not enter.’ “What room is that, Jake?”  

“Hm?” he says, going through a list of movies on his phone. “Oh! That’s my father’s room. He isn’t one for company though, so don’t go in there.”  

“Oh.” You nod, immediately wanting to go in there. 

Jake pushes open the door to the home theatre, and it’s just as you expected. There are a collection of red padded seats placed before the screen, ready to be sat in. Each chair is placed slightly lower than the one behind just like in a real theater, but of course the room is small and subsequently has far less seats. The screen is large and mounted on the wall. You’ve never been to a real theater, so it’s nice to experience one like this. Jake’s already sat down in one of the middle seats, patting the one beside for you. 

“I had this built, saved up my allowance and everything!” He grins, looking around. “The speakers,” he gestures to them, mounted on high up on the wall near the ceiling, “were a fortune, especially because I had to pay a man to put them in.” 

“You have an allowance?” you ask, sinking into the seat. It’s softer than you expected, and you could easily fall asleep.  

“I do! It’s a reasonable sum of money, though like I said, I did have to save up. Anywho.” He scoots closer to you, leaning over the plush arm to show you his phone. “The phone’s a remote control, and I can play any movie I want.”  

You look down at the phone, a list of thriller movies on its screen. Is he trying to test you?  

“Have you ever seen The Silence of the Lambs?” Jake asks. 

“Some years ago,” you reply. “I don’t remember much of the contents. We can watch that if you want.” 

“Sweet!” Jake says, and loads it up. 

You make it through the beginning okay. It’s definitely not a bad movie. Creepy, sure, but not overdone, and you can see how it became a classic. Jake asks if you think Jodie Foster is hot. You offer an ambiguous response and restrain a sigh. 

It’s later on in the movie that you remember the circumstances of the first time you saw this movie. You’d gotten upset, and your brother hadn’t been able to figure out why you were so irritable after watching it. You drum your fingers on your knee. 

Kinda tasteless, you think, always making the bad guys the queer ones. You don’t say anything aloud, of course, because you’re trying to be professional here, but you’re free to think as many disparaging remarks as you want in the safety of your own head. Jake seems straight, anyway. He wouldn’t be interested in hearing it. 

“So what’d you think?” Jake asks when the credits come up.

“Overall, it’s a decent movie. Clearly dated.” You roll your shoulders and stretch after sitting still. “Did you enjoy it?”  

“Oh, I loved it!” Jake says, lighting up. “It’s definitely on my list of favorites. Gives me shivers every time. I love when Lecter bites that poor fellow’s nose off.” 

“That was a pretty solid moment,” you agree. 

Jake hums for a moment, tapping away at his phone until the flat screen shuts off.   

You think now is a better time than any to get some information out of Jake.Nervously you look over to him. “So, do you work with your father now that you’re of age?” 

“Not particularly,” he sighs, slumping into his seat. This must be a sensitive topic. “I help out with some things, accounting, inventory, stuff like that. I never know what he’s really doing, though.” 

“What’s his job again?” You cross your leg over the other, watching Jake carefully.

“Well, he’s a part of Crockercorp. I think he dabbles in one of the higher up branches with no real name.” 

“Isn’t that suspicious?” you ask, the question falling from your mouth before you have a chance to stop yourself, making Jake look at you with obvious confusion. 

“What do you mean?”   

Suddenly, your eyes are filled with the lines of pink text, nearly blinding you. 

TG: dirk you BUTT stop right there before you blow the whole thing!! ur a silent watcher not a detective  
TG: dirk you BUTT stop right there before you blow the whole thing!! ur a silent watcher not a detective  
TG: dirk you BUTT stop right there before you blow the whole thing!! ur a silent watcher not a detective  
TT: Ok, it’s fine. Chill.

You breathe in through your nose, and shake your head. “Forget it. Does this room have a popcorn machine, or what?”  

He laughs. “Dinner is in a few! You’re a bit quirky, aren’t you? Very talkative for a bodyguard. Very friendly.”   

Running your fingers through what’s left of your hair, you let out a breathy laugh. “Well, you’re just easy to talk to.” 

When Jake gets up he waves for you to follow him down in the direction of the dining room, which you would’ve done anyway being his bodyguard and all. Jake insists on showing you the guns room. It turns out to be a more general weapons room with a heavy emphasis on guns. You eye a few of the longer knives wistfully but only comment on the variety of options available. 

“There’s a shooting range in the basement,” Jake says. “I can show you sometime!” 

You imagine yourself being found out as a spy and being used for target practice. “Sure.” 

The two of you return to the dining room where you’d first encountered English the former. The man is now absent, and Jake takes a seat at one of the heads of the table, nearest to the door. He indicates that you should sit near to him.  

“There’s a whole bunch of us who live here in the mansion,” he says. “Though we rarely eat all at the same time. Dad sits at the other end and everyone else’s in the middle but I’m sure it’s fine if you join us.” 

You note silently that Jake sits in a position of power at the table, at the other head, and take your seat at his left.  

“What’s for dinner?” You didn’t realize how hungry you were until now, and you didn’t eat anything this morning due to your nerves being on the fritz about the whole ordeal.  

“Oh, I requested a grand feast for us. I do hope you’re not a vegetarian. My father especially loves his protein!” Jake hums, leaning back against his chair in a way that infuriates you. The way someone privileged sits, like they own the world. 

You can get protein from nuts, you think, but keep it to yourself. “That’s fine. So will it be just us?” The table looks empty. Looking down the length of it makes you feel like you’re in one of those dreams where the exit keeps getting further away while you run toward it. There are 16 other seats. 

“Oh, heavens no. The whole crew is coming to meet you!” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! more to come. :3


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